


Not Even a Little

by toomanysecrets



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomanysecrets/pseuds/toomanysecrets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened when CJ went to Danny’s, and they didn’t talk, not even a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Even a Little

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through 7:18: Requiem.

She almost can’t believe it, but part of her feels wistful, sitting alone in the office she's finally starting to think of as hers watching the election returns. The two presidential campaigns CJ's been a part of were exhausting and unbelievably stressful, but they were also exhilarating. The exhaustion and stress were the price that had to be paid for the rush of hope and optimism and the feeling that they could make a real difference in the world. And although her colleagues had sometimes driven her crazy during that first campaign and, really, ever since, they invariably worked as hard as they could to do what they thought was right.

CJ is working hard to do what she thinks is right, harder than she ever could have imagined during the two Bartlet campaigns. Most days, she thinks, she makes a pretty good Chief of Staff to the President of the United States. Which is good, because with Leo out on the campaign trail, he hasn't been around very much and he hasn't really been able to advise or reassure her lately. She misses him and his counsel, but she's no longer dependent on it. Leo would be extremely useful as Vice President, and with just a little luck tonight, he will be.

It's hard not to feel a little lonely and left-behind when CNN interviews Josh, or Donna briefs the press. Everyone from that first, unbelievable campaign has moved on now, one way or another. While she's discovered that she likes Kate quite a bit, they haven't known each other for all that long. And while Will handles the press well, he's so damn awkward that just talking to him is tiring. Margaret is invaluable as assistant to the Chief of Staff, but she's still... Margaret.

She misses Donna, but since was CJ was the one who told her to find something better to do with her time than clean up after Josh Lyman, she's mostly just proud of her. Josh was ready to run off with the next "real thing." Leo is being groomed, literally, to be the new Vice President. Sam is out in California making a pile of money and actually having a life, and Mrs. Landingham is dead, for God's sake. Her new office is less than a hundred yards from Carol's, but CJ still misses her.

And then there's Toby.

Soon she'll be moving on too, CJ thinks, idly flipping through the pile of job offers that Charlie has refused to let her ignore. Every one of them will pay way better than her current gig and with most of them she would probably even get home before midnight most days. But at least now, even if she is perpetually sleep-deprived, full of adrenaline and frighteningly dependent on her morning coffee, she is absolutely certain that she is doing some good in the world.

CJ has tried to get Margaret to go home. She knows that unless Russia or China actually invades Kazakhstan, all she is going to do tonight is sit on her couch staring at the television and trying not to feel sorry for herself. But of course, when the phone on Margaret's desk rings, she’s right there to pick it up. “CJ, it’s Donna!” she yells through the open door, not bothering with the hold button.

“Put her through.” CJ shoves an unopened job-offer binder off her lap and moves to her desk to pick up the phone. “Hey Donna! Nice job with that last briefing. Josh must be insufferable today, huh?"

“CJ --” Donna’s voice is low, serious and a little wobbly. CJ feels her stomach drop.

“Donna? What’s wrong?”

“Leo collapsed again.” There’s a pause and even over the phone, CJ can hear Donna swallow. “Annabeth just found him in his room. He wasn’t breathing.” CJ freezes for half a second until the smile slides off of her face.

“Oh, my God.”

“An ambulance is taking him to the hospital now.”

Leo can’t die. She needs him. The President needs him. Congressman Santos needs him. They all need him. With the small part of her brain that isn’t stuck repeating this litany over and over, CJ wonders if she’ll ever stop reacting like the Press Secretary. “What are you guys gonna do?”

“I don’t know. I called the Congressman, and then I called you.”

“Thank you. I’ll tell the president.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I know more. I need to tell Josh, and then I’ll take him to the hospital.”

“Alright. Hang in there.” CJ wants to say something encouraging about the election results, but everything that comes to mind now seems wildly inappropriate. “Donna -- you need to get out in front of it. If you try to keep it quiet, it will get out, and you do not want that.”

There’s another pause on the other end of the phone, and then, finally: “Yeah.” Another pause. “I’ll call if anything changes.” The line goes dead.

Eventually it occurs to CJ to hang up the phone, and once she’s aware of her surroundings again, she realizes that Margaret is standing in the doorway trying to get her attention. She is tense, but calm. As Assistant to the Chief of Staff, Margaret has had long practice evaluating the moods of the President and the senior staff with little information. CJ knows that Margaret can be trusted to be discreet and remain cool-headed in a crisis. She also knows that telling Leo’s quirky but fiercely loyal former assistant is going to be almost as heartbreaking as telling the President.

“Is the President in his office?”

“He just got back. Should I get Will?” 

CJ manages to nod, and Margaret turns back to her desk.

CJ levers herself out of her desk chair. Opening the connecting door between her office and the President’s, she has to fight with herself to step through it. As long as she stays on her side of the threshold, the President can keep searching his office for his lost memo, can keep badmouthing his son-in-law, can keep believing that his best friend is safe in a hotel in Houston, an island of calm in a sea of crazy-stressed campaign staffers.

She has spent the last nine years of her life working as hard as she can to protect this man, and now she can’t.

***

CJ is sitting at her desk, staring at but not really processing the election coverage still playing on her television, so that when the phone rings she’ll be right there. She’s asked Margaret to pass calls from Donna straight through. Nevertheless, when the call actually comes, she hesitates before picking it up, stretching out the moment of uncertainty as long as she can. 

“Hi.”

“They couldn’t revive him,” Donna says without preamble, her voice breaking. “He’s gone.”

CJ closes her eyes and concentrates on breathing deeply and evenly, on not losing control of her features and her voice. She can feel the tears gathering anyway. “I’ll inform the President.”

“I need to go.” There’s nothing more to say.

“Donna -- ” 

“Yeah?”

“Call Toby? Like, now?”

“... Yeah.”

 

***

Her cell phone starts ringing less than a minute after the networks make the announcement. She's left Margaret in the care of Bonnie and Ginger and is standing aimlessly behind her desk when the first call comes. Looking at the display on her phone she feels the mixture of apprehension and treacherous delight, carefully and immediately extinguished, that she had thought was finally out of her life. But in contrast to all the people who have left her over the past few years, Danny has come back. She answers the call.

“I know you said you didn’t want to hear from me until after the inauguration, but -- Jesus, CJ, are you okay?”

She starts to reassure him that of course she’s fine. And then, unbidden, she pictures him sitting across the table from her nervously but earnestly working up to asking her to jump off a cliff with him. Dimly, she realizes that she never gave him an answer. She manages to keep her voice mostly steady. “No." 

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.”

Danny doesn’t respond for a few seconds. CJ sniffles, trying to stop the tears that have started down her cheeks again.

“I wish there was something I could say to help you feel better.”

“Me too.”

It suddenly occurs to her that she's pretty sure Danny hasn't actually quit his job yet and she hasn't confirmed that they're off the record.

"Do you want me to come over there?" She’s tempted, because she’d like nothing more than to sag into Danny’s arms on the couch in her office and sob into his collar. But she is still the Chief of Staff, for another two and a half months, anyway, and if she let herself do that, how would she ever get up again and do her job?

"Thanks, but it's going to be crazy around here. I'll be okay." Because she has to be.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Her cell phone beeps with its call-waiting noise. “I need to go.”

“Okay. Give the president and Margaret my condolences. And call me if you need anything. Any time. Even if you just want to talk.”

CJ actually smiles a tiny smile. “Thanks.”

“Seriously. I mean it. Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Checking up on me, Daniel?”

“Under the circumstances, I think that’s probably not a bad idea.”

“You’re probably right.” 

“Really I was just hoping you could make me feel better.”

“Good night, Danny.” She pauses. “Thanks for calling.”

He snorts. “Like either of us are going to bed before they call the election. Good night, and good luck.”

Relieved to get through the call without having to ask if they are on the record, she switches to the waiting call to find her brother Chuck. Mechanically, she fills in the right responses in the right places as he offers his sympathy. By the time they’re groping for something to say, her desk phone has started lighting up. The Japanese, Swedish and South African ambassadors make it through first.

She has Margaret hold all the official calls briefly so that she can take the third call on her cell phone. It’s her niece Hogan, calling from her dorm room at Middlebury. Even though she gave up on a political science major for chemistry halfway through sophomore year, she and her roommate are still riveted by the election coverage. 

The fourth call is from Hogan’s father, her oldest brother Rob.

Even though she knows it’s not gonna happen, CJ is still disappointed as it gets later and later in Dayton, Ohio and there is no call from her father’s nursing home.

***

By the time she gets back to her office after waking the president with the election results, the alarm in her bedroom across town will go off in an hour. She reaches into her desk drawer for her travel alarm clock.

She’s not quite sure what to do with herself, staring at the ceiling of her office in the dark. CJ had long ago trained herself to get her sleep when it was available, since that wasn’t very often. The last time she can remember having trouble sleeping is that time she thought she might be thrown in prison for accidentally telling a reporter about a grand jury investigation, and the time before that was after they’d all gotten shot at and Josh was still in the hospital.

In the morning she should tell Margaret that she’s running out of shampoo in the stash of toiletries she keeps in her desk. She should really have something better prepared to say when the reporters from the Press Corps pass her in the hallway and ask her how she or the president are doing. She should start thinking about visiting her father after the inauguration. Maybe she should stay for a while. He’ll be gone soon too, and it’s not like she’ll have anything pressing to do. In so many ways, her dad is already gone. She remembers the hug she shared with the President, and how nice it was to be held. Since her spin boys left her, she hasn’t gotten very many hugs. How is Congressman Santos -- President-Elect Santos -- going to choose a new vice president? There is no precedent for this situation. She should call Mallory. But what do you say?

CJ dozes off somewhere in the middle of mentally rearranging the president’s schedule for the rest of the week, and sleeps fitfully until 10 minutes before her alarm will go off.

***

When Margaret arrives for the day, CJ is awake, showered, dressed and sitting at her desk, a pile of briefing books in front of her. Margaret gives her a measured look, says only, “Good morning,” and goes straight to the closet to grab yesterday’s suit.

Senior staff is subdued. Cliff and Will look about as well-rested as CJ does. The President has actually gotten most of a decent night’s sleep but his eyes are sad and tired. As soon as she gets back to her office, her phone starts ringing again. The condolence calls have not stopped. The Social Secretary calls from the East Wing, to discuss a White House reception after Leo’s funeral on Friday. Josh calls to check in before heading to the airport to fly up from Houston. Will drops by with a draft statement for the day’s first briefing.

She’s on the phone with the head of the Nuclear Regulatory Commission when her cell phone buzzes in her pocket. It’s not until a few hours later, eating lunch on her couch and trying not to start crying again watching the talking heads on CNN argue about how a new vice president should be chosen, that she thinks to check the missed call.

Danny hasn’t left a message. She has to squeeze her eyes shut against the sudden new tears threatening to overflow. Then, with a grimace, she sets her half-eaten salad on the coffee table, wipes her eyes determinedly, and stalks off to find something useful to do with herself.

The second she hangs up on her 1:30 call, Margaret knocks on the door and pokes her head in CJ’s office. “You have 10 minutes until your 2:00 with Dr. McNally and Secretary Hutchinson. Danny Concannon’s on line 3 -- do you want to take it?”

CJ blinks and stares at her. “Sure.” Margaret jerks her head towards the telephone on CJ’s desk, which is now flashing silently, and shuts the door.

CJ picks up the phone. “Hey. How long have you been on hold?”

She can hear the smile in his voice. “Not too long. I figured the only way I was going to get through to you today was if I had Margaret slot me in. She thought your 1:30 wouldn’t go too long.”

“For once I am surrounded by smart people!” She tries to stifle a yawn and her eyes drift shut.

“Did you just go on the record calling me smart?”

CJ’s eyes snap open. “Are we --”

“No, we’re off the record, but can just that one part be on?”

“Not a chance.”

“Oh, fine. How’re you doing today? It looks like you might not be out of a job in three months.”

“That depends on if Josh Lyman wants me.” She’s suddenly struck by the fact that in three months, this will be Josh’s office, and then by the fact that he will never think of it as her office, only Leo’s.

“Of course he does. Although I have to admit that I’d prefer it if he didn’t.”

There’s a pause while CJ gropes for something to say in response, fails, and gives up. “So did you actually stay up until they called the election?”

“Of course. Vinick’s concession speech was classy.”

“Yeah. He’s a good guy.”

“Look, I know I’m being squeezed in here -- how are you today?”

“Thank God for waterproof mascara.” Danny chuckles. “The West Wing is not a fun place to be just now. I think Bonnie is single-handedly holding the communications department together.”

“And you would be holding everything else together.”

“I’m managing okay.”

“I was going to try to get you to have dinner with me again tonight but Margaret informs me that you’re booked solid.”

“Yeah. Most of that is Josh. The Santos team arrives in a few hours. We’ll probably run late, you know how Josh gets.”

“Give me a call when you’re done. We can get coffee or something. Well, coffee’s not a good idea, but you could come over and I could make you some tea or get you plastered, your choice.”

“How about both?”

“Whatever you want.”

“That’s actually a tempting offer. But I need to go, I think I’ve got the Secretary of State on another line.”

“Okay. CJ -- “ 

“Yeah?”

“Seriously, call me. I’d really like to see you.”

For six years, it was her job to be articulate in response to tough questions, and Danny has now rendered her speechless twice in a five-minute conversation. Eventually she manages to respond. “We’ll see. Thanks for calling.” She thinks maybe she can hear him sigh as she hangs up the phone.

She grabs a couple of ibuprofen out of the bottle in her top desk drawer, to stave off the headache threatening to overwhelm her, and picks up her phone again. “Margaret, you can send Nancy in now.”

After Nancy leaves her office an hour and a half later, CJ finds herself staring through the fishbowl on her desk. Gail swims laps around the tiny donkey and elephant, facing off, that mysteriously appeared in the bowl the last time CJ was out of her office on Monday night. She can hear Leo’s voice in her head, from when he’d inadvertently rescued her from Danny, sitting in her office flirting with her: “That’s a nice goldfish.” So many years later, she still isn’t sure whether she wanted to be rescued.

She keeps a few bottles of wine on a rack in her office closet, under her extra suit and next to her extra matching shoes, for when she finds herself unexpectedly a guest in someone's home. But if she's honest with herself about what she wants from Danny right now, there's something else she should pick up, and for once, there is no one who can run this errand for her.

***

Kate looks up from her desk anxiously when CJ shuts the door behind her. CJ gives her a small smile and the muscles feel long unused, even though it's only been twelve hours since the election was called. "No international crisis, relax."

"For once. What do you need?"

CJ pauses just long enough that Kate is not fooled. "Do you have an updated copy of the Force Readiness Report for the Kazakhstan occupation?"

"The DoD says they'll have it for us by end of day tomorrow." She waits for a response from CJ, but none is forthcoming. "How're you holding up today?"

"If I have to make nice with one more head of state we can't stand, I'm going to cause an international incident." Kate smiles, rolls her eyes, and keeps her mouth shut, still waiting. "I, um, need a favor."

"Sure."

"I mean a real favor, not the kind where I tell you to do something and you have to do it whether you want to or not, but I call it a favor to make us both feel less awkward. If you don't want to do it, that is absolutely fine." The longer CJ rambles on the more quizzical Kate looks. CJ finally runs out of words with a sharp intake of breath. "I'm asking a friend, not a subordinate."

She's a little startled by how quickly Kate answers. "Of course, CJ, what is it?"

"I can't even go to the pharmacy on the corner without a secret service escort." She can feel her face getting warmer as she finally spits it out. This is ridiculous, she thinks, feeling sixteen years old. She is a grown woman, she is not doing anything wrong, and it is absolutely not anyone else's business. But she's also a strikingly recognizable public figure whose picture shows up in the checkout-aisle tabloids with some regularity, and she, and the administration, do not need that this week.

Kate's eyebrows have gone all the way up and her face is carefully neutral. CJ can tell that she really wants to ask, but she doesn't. Instead, she just says, "oh, sure, no problem," and reaches for her purse.

As she digs out a box of condoms and hands it over, CJ beats back a wave of jealousy and barely manages to stop herself from asking where on earth she found the time to find someone to have sex with. She really wants to ask, but she doesn't.

Maybe in a different life, where she wasn't Kate's boss, and they weren't responsible for preventing nuclear war, and they both had time to spend awake and not working, they'd head to a bar, drink a little too much, and talk about their sex lives. But they're them, and this is now, so CJ just stands in front of Kate's desk and tucks the little black box into the stack of file folders she's brought with her so it looks like she has a reason to be there. "Thanks."

Kate grins wickedly. "Have fun."

CJ mutters something about the president wanting her on a call with the British Prime Minister, and flees back to her office.

***

In the fifteen minutes that it takes to get to Danny’s apartment, CJ firmly resolves three separate times that this is ridiculous and inappropriate and a terrible idea and she should tell her driver to turn around and take her home. Somehow she never quite manages it, busying herself instead with brushing an impressive coating of dust off the bottle of wine she’s brought with her from her office closet. And then the car has stopped and the driver has opened the door for her and she’s following her agent up the stairs to a row house with 6 buzzers by the door, one marked “D. Concannon.”

Danny’s standing in the open door of his apartment when CJ and her two agents reach the top of the stairs. One of her agents approaches him first. “Good evening, sir. I’ll have to take a look around.” Danny nods, steps aside and tries to make eye contact with CJ, smiling faintly.

CJ spends the seemingly-interminable sixty seconds it takes Mike to check out the apartment trying to avoid eye contact with Danny. She meets his eyes for a fraction of a second and then looks anywhere else: past him into his apartment, down at the moulding on the doorframe, out the window at the end of the hall. She clutches her purse and the bottle of wine in front of her, then fights the urge to hide them behind her back. Logically she knows that Danny, still looking vaguely bemused and searching her face, can’t magically see inside her purse and find either Kate’s condoms or the toothbrush she grabbed out of her top desk drawer on her way out of her office, an afterthought, just in case.

Mike returns, thanks Danny, and then takes up his post outside the door as her other agent heads back to the car. CJ hopes fervently that Danny’s across-the-hall neighbor isn’t the curious type. Or the type to call the tabloids.

The formalities through, there’s nothing left to do but step through Danny’s door and shut it behind her. The two of them are left standing there staring at each other in Danny’s living room. His apartment is small and open, surprisingly clean and well-decorated, pleasantly warm after the fall chill outside. She can smell cloves and nutmeg, and underneath them the earthy scent that she associates with exactly six kisses, stolen in her office and in the press room, so long ago.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and he is completely still. “How you doing?” He’s in jeans and a sweater. CJ’s pretty sure that this is the most casual she’s ever seen him dressed, and suddenly she realizes that she’s done it, a boundary has been crossed, that she is here, in the private sphere of Danny Concannon’s life.

For what feels like the fifteenth time in the last twenty-four hours, she bites her lip against sudden tears and casts her eyes away from Danny’s. She knows that she won’t be able to talk without crying. Danny waits a few seconds and then approaches her slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. When he reaches her he takes her bag and the bottle of wine and sets them on the floor next to them, and then wraps his arms around her. She slides her arms around his waist and holds on.

For the first time in twenty-four hours, she lets herself cry, leaning her head down on his shoulder. Most of the time CJ appreciates her height and how she can use it to her own advantage, but this is one of the few situations where she often wishes she weren’t so damn tall. Danny’s breathing is deep and even and she lets him hold her close and rub her back.

After a few minutes, her sobs subside and she realizes that she’s never been this close to him, even back when she was grabbing him and kissing him and convincing herself that that was okay. She had never let him hold her, for fear of crossing the invisible line between at least plausibly innocent kisses and, well, sneaking off to his apartment after work with condoms in her purse. As her head clears now that she's stopped crying, she finds herself acutely aware of all the places her body is in contact with his, and even more aware of the places they're not quite touching. She can feel his beard, scratchy against her cheek.

She’s leaning in to kiss the side of his neck, just under his beard, when he pulls back and tilts his head to make eye contact that she can’t avoid. “Want to have a seat, and I’ll get you a drink? I mulled some wine. It was the best thing I could think of that’s kind of like tea and would definitely get you a little plastered.” His lips quirk upwards slightly. That explains the cloves and nutmeg. She sniffles and gives him a watery smile in return.

And then she leans across the six inches between them and presses her lips against his. She can feel his shoulders tense even as he kisses her back and his hands start to slide down over her hips. She follows him as he pulls away, until he brings his hand up between them and gently pushes her away.

She’s made a horrible mistake, she thinks, mentally calculating how fast she can gather her things and make it out the door. But his eyes are locked with hers, gray-green and unreadable, and his voice is the slightest bit unsteady as he asks her, “CJ, are you sure that’s a good idea right --"

She kisses him again, winding her arms around his neck and silently willing him, this once, to please, please, just shut up and not argue with her.

He doesn’t.

His hands slide under her suit jacket and pull her closer. Hers run through the soft curls at the back of his neck and through the coarser hair of his beard. He chuckles softly against her lips and then rubs his cheek against hers. CJ can feel his smile and buries her face in his neck so she doesn’t have to acknowledge it. He is warm and solid where she has pressed up against him, his arms around her waist.

Reluctantly she pulls away just far enough to slide her jacket off and toss it onto the sofa halfway across Danny’s living room. As soon as she’s free of it Danny pulls her back against him and kisses her again, sliding his hand up from her waist to cup the side of her breast, slippery through the silk of her blouse. She twists into his hand and he responds by squeezing gently, and then harder, tweaking her nipple through the cloth. Her hips jerk toward him and she slides her hands under his sweater. Grunting in frustration to find a t-shirt under it, she pulls enough of it out to run her hands over the bare skin of his back. He pulls her hips against his and she can feel his erection against her thigh.

Danny slides around her and tries to maneuver them somewhere without pulling away from her. When she realizes they’re heading for the sofa, CJ stops letting Danny drag her across the room. In the abstract, spending several hours making out on Danny’s couch sounds pleasant -- maybe they can do that sometime when she doesn't have to be up quite so early in the morning -- but that is not why she came here tonight, and there’s no point in pretending it is. When he breaks off their kiss and looks at her in confusion, she smiles faintly, settles her arms around his waist, and gently tugs him toward his bed, conveniently clearly visible from the living room. He raises his eyebrows and smiles back at her.

“Well, okay then…”

***

CJ is half asleep, the warmth of Danny’s bed and the feel of his bare skin against hers warring with the voice in her head that’s telling her that she’s made her booty call and the polite thing to do now is to find her clothes, get dressed, and head home as soon as possible. With an inward sigh she lifts her head off of Danny’s shoulder and starts to look around for the nearest article of discarded clothing.

“Hey there.” He tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear and then runs his knuckles along her jaw. “Should I set an alarm?”

Danny’s smiling a lazy half-smile and his eyes are doing that crinkly thing that’s been making her stomach flutter for the past eight years. He smells so good, and she’s pretty sure her jacket is all the way on the other side of the apartment, which is just too far away right now.

She stares at him across a very short distance.

“I’ll get a wakeup call at 5.”

***

When CJ hasn’t stirred for a good ten minutes, Danny carefully extracts his arm from around her and climbs out of bed very slowly. Padding into his living room, he picks up CJ’s handbag and the bottle of wine she had brought with her, abandoned on the floor by the door, and sets them on his kitchen counter. He turns off the burner under the pot of mulled wine still simmering gently on the stove, and, wincing, sets the coffee maker to start brewing at 4:45. Halfway through turning off all the lights, it occurs to him to pull on his discarded jeans and t-shirt. He takes a few seconds to school his face into the blandest expression he can manage, and then pokes his head out into the hallway. The secret service agent turns to him blankly.

“I think she’s in for the night,” he whispers as quietly as he can.

CJ’s agent nods gravely. “Thank you.” As he shuts the door he can hear the agent mumbling into the microphone hidden in his sleeve.

Danny turns off the last light in his apartment and heads for his bed. Peeling off his t-shirt and jeans, he’s struck by the scene in front of him, illuminated by the street light outside the window: CJ Cregg is sound asleep in his bed. She’s facing away from him but her hair has spilled loose across her pillow. In the morning she’ll push him and challenge him and bend entire nations to her will, but right now she’s curled in on herself under his sheets and the indistinct form she makes looks almost small. The thought makes him smile, and he shakes his head and climbs into bed behind her. CJ mumbles incoherently and starts to roll over as he curls his body around hers, and he shushes her and kisses her hairline. She’s still again by the time he snakes his arm around her and pulls her against him.

As he drifts off, lulled by the sound of CJ’s even breathing and the traffic noise from street, the scent of CJ and the smell of sex, he is in awe of the fact that she came to him, that maybe he helped, that perhaps coming back wasn’t as horrible an idea as he’d suspected it might be. At some point they’ll have to talk about what this was, but for now, she came, and then she stayed. He hopes she’ll stay for a long, long time.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be mostly sex with a little angst, and turned into mostly angst with a little sex. This was my challenge to myself to write a sex scene, and I completely failed on that, but I started this a year and a half ago, and this way it can be DONE.
> 
> There have been a lot of stories written where CJ just shows up at Danny’s unannounced. While that makes a better story, it always seemed kind of unrealistic to me -- there’s no way Danny wouldn’t try to contact her after Leo’s death. So I wanted to try to write a version of this where that happened.


End file.
